


Changed Things

by Zinfandel



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-23 02:28:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4859618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zinfandel/pseuds/Zinfandel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack ventures down to the lair a century later curious to see what has become of the boogeyman, what he finds is not what he expects.</p>
<p>Was meant to be a sorta long-fic involving pitch's rocky road to recover from a century of torture and how that changed him irrevocably. Since i'll never write that even though the idea appeals to me, i'll post the very beginning of the intended story, it works well as an open ended oneshot at least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changed Things

**Author's Note:**

> found this in my docs today and completely forgot i wrote this way back when (in January actually, 9 months ago, wow). Thought i'd post it for funzies anyways. The idea was really something for me at the time. Had a bunch of points of recovery and regression that i thought were really pertinent. alas, those will never come to fruition, sorry.

That...That was no Nightmare King he had found down in the darkness. Pitch Black seemed to only be a spectre of the past now.

Jack worried his lip as he sat on his frozen lake, a broken man huddled on his lap.

He didn’t know what to do, really. He had only ventured down into Pitch’s lair out of boredom and curiosity, he didn’t expect to find what he had.

He found Pitch upon a broken and jagged throne, half of it had crumbled, and he was lain draped like a rag doll atop the rubble. His globe was a twisted scrap of metal knocked off it’s dais and long rusted.

The man himself was dusted with dark sand and his eyes blankly staring ahead, dead. Jack didn’t know if it was some sort of ploy, some scheme of his to lure him closer, but it worked. Jack cautiously crept nearer and nearer to Pitch’s body, quietly calling his name with no reaction from the man.

When he was within arms reach and still Pitch did not stir, Jack paused. He straightened up and leaned against his staff looking around the vast dingy gloom of the lair. It was certainly in disrepair, but Jack hadn’t paid enough attention the first time he was in there nearly a century ago to be able to tell if it was the same or not from that time. The globe was certainly different, and he couldn’t recall ever seeing this throne, but still…

“Pitch?” He asked tentatively as he reached a hand out to touch.

He paused before making contact, suddenly finding some iota of fear. And that was all it took really. He should have known.

Pitch’s chest heaved with breath and he blinked a few times looking around, his eyes glossy and white, the silver and gold nowhere to be found. Jack froze solid, and it actually took a good few seconds for Pitch to focus on him, standing right before him.

“I’m glad I didn’t kill you…” Pitch spoke, his voice like dust, a shard of a smile curling one corner of his mouth.

Jack opened his mouth to reply his confusion, but Pitch continued with that painful sounding whisper.

“How nice of you to send me a dream, Sanderson. I thought there were none left.” He reached up a hand, the effort making his arm tremble. “How kind. I don’t deserve this you know.” He continued, and Jack for whatever unknown reason didn’t move, and he let Pitch’s fingers touch his sleeve.

It seemed to take an age, Pitch’s fingertips gently pausing upon the frost decorating Jack’s cuff. It was like a lull before a storm, and quite suddenly the clouds broke.

Pitch’s misty eyes widened as he recoiled from Jack as if burned. His breath caught in his throat as Pitch seemed to try and curl up but his body wouldn’t listen and his entire frame shuddered. Then, his breath came too fast and his eyes which had fixed upon Jack’s arm darted up to his face and Pitch gasped at the sight.

Jack instinctively lurched forwards with some notion to help and all he got was a terrified yelp from the man.

“Not a dream-!” Pitch almost shouted, his eyes rolling and his head snapping to the side to look off into the darkness and then to the other side. Jack was struck dumb by the display. 

"Uh...no?” he finally found some words, as inane as they were. They had Pitch’s attention zeroed back in on him instantly and he felt uncomfortable under the panicked gaze.

 “I’m awake?” Pitch croaked, both hands clutching at his chest in an absurd gesture completely unlike everything Jack knew of the man.

 “Good morning.” Jack tried with as much cheerfulness as he could muster.

 Pitch instead began to quite obviously sniff and gasp for air as tears glistened in his strange eyes.

 “W-woah now, don’t cry about it-” Jack said, reaching forwards again only to be met with a violent flinch from the fallen king. “Hey…”

 Pitch pulled back as much as he could and the tears streaked down his cheeks freely as he hiccuped and swallowed trying to fight the sobs threatening to overwhelm him. He gasped once, twice, then held his breath for a moment before a violent shudder accompanied a gusting exhale and he wailed “I-I’m scared!”

 And that was like a slap in the face, wasn’t it. How could Pitch be scared? Jack felt himself get scared in the face of Pitch Black crying and rubbing at his face, but he didn’t have much time to wonder about it because a shrieking whinney shattered their little world of two and Pitch responded with a screech of terror and Jack whirled around, alarmed.

 Burning yellow eyes blinked to life all around them and Pitch was in near hysterics when he saw them, scrambling up the shards of his throne, stone and pebbles falling away under his clawed hands and Jack had a distinct feeling he  knew what shattered the chair in the first place now. Pitch was terrified of his nightmares and they were swarming to his fear and Jack was doing a right shit job of quelling his own now because holy god damn there were a lot of eyes and-

 “Come on!” Jack shouted and looped an arm around Pitch’s waist and hoisted him into the air, rocks falling from the man’s grip as he squirmed and wailed trying to get free, completely senseless with terror.

 Jack shook Pitch, frustrated with the struggling as he darted up into the air, leaping from cage to cage flying as fast as he could from Pitch’s lair. The jostling didn’t help much, that is until they burst from the hole in the ground out into the crisp night air and Pitch stilled completely.

 Jack didn’t stop flying till he reached his pond nearby and landed down on the ice with the former king, who immediately crumpled to his knees. Pitch’s head shot up and he looked around frantic before he wailed once again and doubled over, burying his face in his knees his hands coming up and trying to shield his head, and he proceeded to cry and tremble.

 “Wh-what? What’s wrong?” Jack asked, concerned as he knelt beside Pitch and reached out. His hand stopped once again and all he could seem to make it do was hover over Pitch’s bowed back.

 And Pitch only seemed to want to cry.

 “Hey, c’mon. We’re out of the dark, there’s no nightmares here.” Jack tried and forced his palm down to rest on Pitch’s shoulder. And again he was met with a violent and wildly uncharacteristic reaction. Pitch recoiled and scrambled back, slipping on the ice and falling to his side while trying to sit up, his eyes wide and starting to tinge with darkness, what Jack figured to be his version of red tear weary eyes.

 “What is with you!” Jack exclaimed, becoming almost annoyed, and was replied to with a flinch and more tears. What the hell happened?

 “Ok, ok, shhh. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout. We’re safe now ok, no more fearlings. I’m sorry, hey-” He tried instead, switching tactics and finally, finally, he was met with a new reaction.

 Sort of.

 Pitch cowered, his hands coming to his chest again and he stared at Jack wide eyed, his sobs lessening back to the occasional hiccup.

 “There we go, see? It’s alright, I’m not here to hurt you. Wanna tell me why you are scared?”

 Pitch looked fretfully back the way they came, then to Jack again and a thin whine threaded from his throat.

 “Uh…” Jack was taken back. Pitch didn’t want to say? “Was it the nightmares?” He tried.

 Pitch first shook his head, then nodded, then stopped and looked down. He was sitting on one hip, his legs curled underneath him and he only curled in on himself again.

 “Was it the fearlings?” Jack tried again, and was met with a shrug, Pitch adamantly keeping his head down, his gaze averted. Who was this man? Pitch Black was never like this in all of Jack’s memory.

 Jack edged closer to him very slowly. “Was it….is it me?” Again, Pitch shrugged, but Jack caught the barest hint of a nod. He tried to smile in a reassuring manner, but Pitch wasn’t looking anyways…”Well, no need to be afraid of me, I’m perfectly harmless.”

 Pitch’s trembles renewed and his head shook violently as he gasped and tipped forwards.

 “Aw, hey. I’m telling the truth! I won’t hurt you. I just saved you! Got you outa all that doom and gloom-”

 “-om the darkness.” Pitch mumbled as he tried to curl into a ball again.

 “What was that?” Jack asked as he was almost in arms reach again. A whine was his only answer. “From the darkness? Saved you from the dar- Pitch...are you scared of the dark?”

 And Pitch cried anew. Jack actually...felt bad. Bad enough that he didn’t realize what he was doing before he was scooping Pitch up into a hug. A hug which he obviously struggled and pushed against, but Jack held strong.

 “Shh, hey, c’mon Pitch, I’m not hurting you, I’m hugging you. Calm down a bit. Sto- hey, stop it.” Jack said firmly, squeezing Pitch tighter, and finally Pitch stopped fighting only to sit stiffly in Jack’s arms shivering.

 “There. There we go. Not so bad right? Just a hug. Nothing but a hug. See, i’m not hurting you, I’m not scary. I’ve got you now. That’s it.” Jack said quietly. His prattle seemed to help somewhat and after a bit of inane chatter Pitch finally started to relax.

 

 


End file.
